


Starting Fires

by https_fern



Category: American Assassin (2017)
Genre: Action, F/M, Gunshot Wounds, Kidnapping, Post-Movie: American Assassin (2017), Protective Dylan, Shooting Guns, Spies & Secret Agents, Terrorists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/https_fern/pseuds/https_fern
Summary: "With a final grunt, Rapp threw himself to the left, the noises getting closer behind him, his eyes losing focus before a blinding light came in contact with him, his steps leading him to the opening without realizing the most important thing: it was a big fall.And it was amidst his body free falling into the ground that Mitch Rapp scolded himself. So much for trying to live and see the face of Melinda one more time. What the terrorist hadn't done, he had managed to. He had killed himself."Eight years after being running away from his life as a trained assassin, Mitch Rappa finds himself in the life he had once dreamed of before having it taken away from himself. But when the past comes knocking on his front door and charging for all the things he had done, Rapp needs to throw himself back in the job he swore to never look back to.But when the life of his most precious treasure in on the line, there is nothing capable of holding him back from burning the entire country down.





	1. Prologue

 Rapp came to a halt, his chest rising and falling in quick motions, his breath labored, his sight not yet adjusted to the darkness of the tunnel. Behind him, he could hear the shouts and steps resonating through the gallery, water splashing around and echoing throughout the chamber, making it hard to pinpoint the location where it all came from.

A drop of sweat rolled from his forehead to his eye, the salty liquid stinging the deep cut over his eyebrow before finding its way to his amber iris. The man blinked a couple of times trying to clear his mind and keep his cool in order to find a way out of this situation.

The putrescent smell from the tunnel gave him the indication he needed. It was a sewer and there had to be a way out of it if he could find which path to follow before the men behind him had the chance of him and giving Rapp the same fate his partner had.

Stumbling forwards, the assassin advanced in the darkness, his left hand against the humid wall while his right hand held onto the gash wound on his lower abdomen, stacking some of the blood that insisted on pouring out of his body due to the constant movement he made.

Rapp couldn't give himself a moment to stop and understand where this mission had gone wrong. He couldn't believe they had been outsmarted. A whole team with the best of the best and yet they had fallen prey to some terrorist cell in the middle of nowhere, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. The past few months had been like walking through hell, with Rapp and Davis being moved from one camp to another, a blind always covering their eyes, their minds clouded due to the amount of sedatives they had been given daily. It was like a never-ending nightmare and Rapp couldn't believe he was right in the center of it all, the one being held hostage instead of finding a way to free someone else.

The words Hurley had always told him ringed in his brain every day, the constant nag that no one would come after him. _Remember,_ the voice said. _If anything goes wrong, no one is coming for you. You're ghost._

And that's what he was trying to be now, a complete translucid, inaudible being walking with water covering his ankles, his steps vacillating, his breath ragged and his eyes blurry. A sense of determination was what kept him going, though. There was no one else coming for him, there was no future staying. He had to leave and survive. He had to find a way out of this hell he had been living and get back to his life, to the people he had left behind, to the secret he kept from the CIA.

Without thinking of anything else, Mitch followed ahead, the path splitting into two directions, a groan escaping his mouth when he realized one wrong move would lead him into his death.

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the face of a woman invading his thoughts, the smile she had on her plump lips, the way the dimples on her cheeks caved into her features, her fingers intertwining with one another, her eyes glistening in the sunlight. He wondered what she had been going through, what she thought had happened to him. Hurley had no idea about her, he had no idea about anything Mitch had decided to keep excluded from his professional life. And if that was the case, she had no idea he had been captured, she had no idea he was still alive and she had no idea he was going back to her. For all he knew, she assumed he had fallen victim to the horrible job he had, the one she had insisted he gave up, to no avail.

With a final grunt, Rapp threw himself to the left, the noises getting closer behind him, his eyes losing focus before a blinding light came in contact with him, his steps leading him to the opening without realizing the most important thing: it was a big fall.

And it was amidst his body free falling into the ground that Mitch Rapp scolded himself. So much for trying to live and see the face of Melinda one more time. What the terrorist hadn't done, he had managed to. He had killed himself.


	2. One

**Eight years later**

_ His feet hit the pavement fiercely, propelling his body forwards in an intense rhythm, sweat breaking through the man’s face, his hand holding the gun tight by his side, eyes focused on the target trying to run away from him, sneaking through alleyways and abandoned buildings. Rapp knew that if he didn’t act soon, he’d lose the subject in front of him and months of operation would be lost. _

_ A voice echoed through his mind reminding him of the earpiece he had in. _

_ “Rapp, don’t shoot!” Boomed the voice of Stan Hurley, the older agent sounding already mad at the antics his recruit had been pulling ever since he started working. “Get back to your position.” _

_ The younger man shook his head, dismissing the direct order of his superior and following the figure in front of him, jumping over stacks of boxes that had been thrown on the way. _

_ Mitch saw the target entering the last building on the street and picked up his pace, certain that it would be over in a matter of seconds. _

_ His eyes soon adjusted to the darkness of the hallway, the steps the other man took resonating through the air until Rapp could easily find the way to go, his own steps calculated and soundless, gun in hand ready to shoot the first sight of movement. _

_ When Rapp finally arrived on the last floor, there he saw who he was pursuing. The man didn’t look older than 18, his hands gripping tightly a device that clearly would activate the bomb the rest of the team was trying to deactivate. _

_ “Don’t do this,” Rapp said, his voice rough and intimidating, his eyes void of any emotion. He had been doing it for a while now and the fact that terrorists seemed to use younger people each time didn’t strike him. They were all killers, each and every one of them just waiting for the opportunity to annihilate hundreds of lives. _

_ When the man didn’t move, Rapp took a tentative step forward, his hands pulling the trigger slightly, his head cocked to the side studying the figure in front of him, watching the finger in his hand grow dangerously close to the button, ready to push it.  _

_ “Say goodbye to your family,” the young adult said, a sadistic smile on his face. _

_ With a sudden movement, the American assassin ceased his brows and pulled the trigger, the bullet leaving the barrel in a matter of milliseconds. At that moment, time seemed to slow down as the bullet traveled towards its target, but the man no longer stood there. Before his eyes, Mitch saw the man vanish and leave Melinda in his place, her eyes wide open as she stared at the man who had shot her, tears welling up in her eyes. _

_ Mitch blinked furiously, the time going back to its natural pace before he could do anything,  the bullet hitting the woman in her chest, blood staining her white blouse as she stared down at it, her eyes going back up to Mitch’s before opening her mouth, a mute, painful word coming out of it. _

_ “Mitch,” she mumbled, the tears now cascading down her face as her body fell backward out of the window before colliding with the floor in a sickening sound of bones crushing. _

Mitch awoke with a start, his hands reaching into the thin air, a cold sweat breaking on his forehead, eyes wide open and out of breath.

He had been having that dream for a while now. It always started the same way, with him following someone, gun in hand until this empty building. Sometimes he was too late, other times he would shoot the man, but he would turn into Melinda, her eyes locking on his before she spiraled to her death, his whole body convulsing after watching her lying lifeless on the ground.

Sighing deeply, the man rolled on the bed, his eyes falling on the sleeping beauty beside him, her chest rising and falling in a deep, constant breath, her eyes rolling behind the closed eyelids, his troubles completely unaware to her. The puny light coming from outside wouldn’t be enough to anyone else, but Mitch, with his trained eyes, could perfectly see the soft twitch of Melinda’s lips, something so barely noticeable she laughed at him the first time he mentioned it. Her long eyelashes fell over the skin of her cheekbones, her hair splayed over her shoulders, her left arm draped over his torso as she laid on her right side. 

Something about the way she looked, so peaceful and calm, made his own breath fall to a normal rhythm, his heart slowing down as he eyes traveled over her figure, her slim arms contrasting with his bulky ones, her soft skin serving as a silky cover on his rough one. 

It was sometime around 5:30 am, he could tell, the first signs of movements going on outside. Mitch knew that he only had a little over 30 minutes to get his act together and get ready for the day, but as long as it would end in the same way it had the previous night, it would be alright. 

His dream was just that, a dream. A bad one that had no way of happening. Eight years had gone ever since he abandoned the other side of his life, no contact with the CIA or Stan Hurley. No more dealing with terrorists or oppressive governments. No more risks, just a calm, and quiet life. 

When Mitch Rapp first accepted Irene’s proposal and endured training with Hurley, he was sure that was the thing he would be doing for the rest of his life. Going after the people who were responsible for all the harm that was happening to the world, hunt those bastards down and, somehow, make the world a better place. He had started with people who had been responsible for the death of Katrina, but he knew he didn’t want to stop there. He knew there was so much more to be done. How could he ever say no to that job? How could he deny himself from the task of preventing the world from turning into a place full of killers? If he had to become a killer himself, it didn’t matter. He would do so.

But, of course, the universe had other plans for him and what would be something Mitch thought he would be doing for the rest of his life, with no other sense of priority, soon became something he did purely out of habit. Who could ever predict a girl showing up out of nowhere and turning the assassin’s life 360 degrees? Surely not him and not any of his superiors, who were kept in the dark about it throughout all his time as an off the books CIA agent. And although he thought he could lead both fronts of his life together, a mission going wrong changed his perspective. He didn’t care that no one had come after him, he didn’t care that they thought he was dead. All he cared about was going back to the girl he had left home, going back to the person who had put his life back together.

Soft paddles on the wood caught Mitch’s attention, his eyes darting away from the girl beside him to the ajar door on his left, waiting for whoever was coming, his senses alarmed when a ball of caramel and black fur made its way into the room, the man rolling his eyes at the dog before shaking his head. Of course no one would have found him over the night.

Sitting up on the bed, his hands running over his eyes trying to rub the sleep away, Mitch wondered how the dog had gotten to his room when he clearly had made sure it was downstairs and only one conclusion came to his mind.

Slowly, he got up, his back stretching before he could take the first step, arms fully extended, and cracked his neck, a morning routine he couldn’t seem to give up just yet. Years and years of training hadn’t prepared him for the task of sleeping in a bad position.

A small, soft hand made contact with his lower half, a small grunt coming from behind him before he could look back, his eyes falling on the once sleeping beauty on the bed, her eyes now staring back at him in a sleepy way, threatening to close anytime soon.

“What are you even doing awake?” Melinda mumbled, her body curled up to the comfortable duvet, naked arms reaching out for the man and trying to push him back onto the bed with no avail. “Miiiiitch...”

Mitch chuckled at the lazy state of the girl, his bottom sitting on the bed once again, hands reaching out for her as he pulled her closer to him, fingers dancing on her warm skin as she let out a content sigh and closed her eyes.

It was amusing to see how different they were, how one could get up at the crack of dawn while the other had the hardest time being able to function in the morning. It was amusing to see them on the bed, just cuddled to one another, basking on the sensation of having their significant other next to them, feeling the heat coming off their bodies, the soft sound of their breaths in sync, the rise and fall of their chest against each other, the adoring look on Mitch’s soft eyes, the small smile on Melinda’s lips as she felt the love of her life holding her in his arms. For all they cared, the world could fall apart and they wouldn’t even notice, they wouldn’t even care.

However, was soft whisper was possible to hear from the other side of the door. A low, childish hiss echoing through the corridor that made Mitch smile inwardly as he watched the woman in his arms stir in her soft slumber, her eyes opening a fraction before sighing. 

“Too good to be true,” she mumbled, her arms unraveling from Mitch’s middle as she rolled on her side, eyes stubbornly closing much to her dismay. “Why do you have to be up so early, for Pete’s sake, and why does she have to be exactly like you?”

“You already knew that when you accepted to marry me,” the man smiled, his arms stretching in front of himself as he kicked his legs out of the bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Melinda rolled her eyes, not fully awake yet, the feeling of the soft sheets on her skin lulling her back into sleep. “Now go and tell your daughter to let me sleep a little bit more.”

“So now she’s my daughter?”

“Before sunrise, yes.”

With a shake of his head, Mitch got up from the bed, his eyes already used to the dim light in the room, nearly missing the dog sat at the foot of the bed, his eyes rolling before he fully opened the door and came in contact with a clear corridor, the light on and the distinct sound of a door clicking shut by his left. 

As if nothing had happened, Rapp made his way out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the now empty hallway, his hands lingering on the knob before turning it and opening the door slowly, head peeking out inside, smiling at the adorable scene he had come up with.

With the cover pulled up to her chin and eyes shut closed, Joanna Rapp laid on the bed, her chest rising and falling in a picked up pace, almost as if she had just ran a marathon before jumping on the mattress. Mitch chuckle at the sight pushing the door wide open before entering the room and going to the girl, her eyes opening ever so slightly trying to see what was happening around her before shutting back again when seeing her father so close to her, his weight shifting the mattress before he leaned into her, his breath fanning over her small face.

“What are you doing up?” he whispered in her ear, her lips trembling trying not to laugh and blow her cover. When no sound came from the girl, he tried again. “Oh, you’re asleep? I wonder how Guizmo managed to make his way upstairs… Maybe I should just let him sleep outside so-”

“You wouldn’t!” The small voice bellowing from under him, her eyes snapping open finding her father’s grin spreading across his face. “I-I mean, what?”

Mitch laughed at the girl’s silly attempt of trying to act as if nothing had happened. She was much too smart for her age and he couldn’t believe it. If she kept it up, he would have troubles with her in the future. 

“Gotcha,” he smiled, hands finding its way to the girl, tickling her, a shriek of excitement escaping her lips as she tried to get away from him, her laughter echoing off the walls causing a huge smile to spread across Mitch’s face. There was nothing in the world he loved more than hearing that sound before his day started or after a relatively bad day at work. He could literally feel his whole mood brighten up whenever Joanna’s smiles caught his eyes, whenever her giggles found their way into his ears. 

“DAD!” The girl screamed, tears starting to pool in her eyes, her small hands fighting off Mitch’s bigger ones, her breath coming short from all the giggles. “Daddy, no!”

HIs movements halted, his hands threateningly hover over her, a wicked smile on his face. “You done pretending you’re asleep?”

“Yes,” she wheezed, eyes blinking as she stared at him. “No more tickling. Promise?”

“Promise,” he smiled.

“You have to pinky swear,” Joanna stated, her hand coming out of the duvet, pinky sticking out for him to clasp his pinky finger around it. “Or it’s not for real.”

The former assassin looked at the girl, her liquid brown eyes matching his, her soft hair falling around her beautiful, angelic face much as Melinda’s, her button like nose scrunching up as she waited for his reply, wondering why he was looking at her so intently. 

“Pinky swear,” he finally complied, his little finger wrapping around her much smaller one in a silent promise, much as the one he had made to himself the day she was born.

 


End file.
